


Postscript

by homecriticismchef



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Keuruu, Letters, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Multi, Onni in the background, Post-expedition, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homecriticismchef/pseuds/homecriticismchef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three things arrive in Keuruu: a letter, a book, and Emil. Only the first two are for Tuuri.<br/>Not that anybody believes her when she says so.<br/>Well, at least she has a pen pal to vent to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postscript

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to Minutia_R for the concept and for being a fantastic beta reader (any lingering weirdness is entirely on my head). Thanks also to Kiraly and notapaladin for further ideas and awesome encouragement.  
> Not that I'm saying this story is their **fault** or anything. Of course not.

Of the three things that arrived in Keuruu one morning in early summer, only two were for Tuuri.

There was a letter. There was a carefully-wrapped book, which was explained in the letter, but wasn’t all the letter was about.

And there was a courier - who, the letter noted, couldn’t read either one.

Blinking, obviously a little put off by the sparse, military aesthetic of the Finnish town, Emil nonetheless stood up straighter when he saw that she’d seen him – or maybe just when he recognized a face. His smile, like his hair, was a little lank and lopsided, but both were just as bright as she remembered them.

She deposited her morning porridge on the nearest table, trotted his way, and threw her arms over his shoulders, words already pouring out of her mouth like a river of Swedish breaking through a crumbling dam.

“I didn’t know you were coming! Why are – have you been working this summer? Is it true you’re an _advisor_ now, because Taru said something about that and she was training you this spring?" Or trying to – the Finnish Tuuri had taught him so he could talk to Lalli wasn't, Taru said, especially up to the task when Siv wasn't around to translate. "You look so good! Tired, but good!”

She stepped back – way, way too late.

Still, Emil was Emil, and he didn’t mind the attention. “It’s good to see _you_ again! And I am only here in an instructive capacity this year, but there can’t be any doubt -”

He elucidated his very high hopes as she guided him toward breakfast, and only in the line did he stop mid-sentence, raise a finger, and say, “Oh, I have a few things for you.” Digging through his bag, he pulled out the book first, then the letter. “I don’t know about the book, but the letter is a lot of research details, Mikkel said. So you have a chance to keep up? I assume he didn’t say anything rude just because I can’t read Icelandic, but if he did -”

She barely heard the last bit as she started to unwrap the book, feeling her eyes widen until they might fall out of her head at any moment. One of  _the books._ It had to be. For  _her._

She quickly re-wrapped it, realizing she desperately did not want to get porridge on something so valuable.

 

Of course, she knew Emil hadn’t just come as a Cleanser; he was there to see Lalli. 

Unfortunately, his arrival in front of half of Keuruu and their enthusiastic chat in a language almost nobody else within a 300 km radius spoke had given a few people similar, but decidedly wrong ideas. Some of which she heard about before she even had a chance to  _look_ at Mikkel’s letter.

  
It started with Ansa, on the way to lunch, falling into step beside her with a light nudge on the arm that probably wasn’t an accident.

“If you’re looking for  _someone_ , unfortunately some day scout’s already got him on a tour of the perimeter.”

She was looking for lunch, and her stomach was much louder than her logical processes right then, so she literally stopped and stood there blinking for a few seconds as she tried to figure out what Ansa was talking about. Why would she be looking for Onni? Maybe Lalli was – no, Lalli was right back to his pre-expedition routine within a week of getting back to Keuruu, although maybe now that Emil was there he’d –  _Oh._ She started walking again. “Oh. That’s okay.”

“He’s so pretty, by the way.”

“You would not believe  _how_  pretty most Swedes are!” Tuuri wouldn’t go so far as Taru had – not  _all_ Swedes were any one thing, obviously - but she could feel her eyes getting a little glassy just thinking about one of the luggage inspectors she’d dealt with in Mora on the way back this spring. Not a friendly inspector at all, but when -

“You’re so lucky, Tuuri. No pun intended. I guess people can really bond on a stressful trip like that, though, and get to know each other, and now you and he -”

Wait. Did Ansa think - “Oh, we’re good friends, but … don’t get me wrong. He’s not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Oh, really? So the look on your face just now was -” Ansa had guided her to the soup line, and interrupted herself to say, “Hey, where are the bowls?” to the servers. And they had to wait there for a bit, for a stack of clean bowls, but even with that delay Tuuri couldn’t seem to find the words to convince Ansa that there wasn’t  _something_ going on between her and Emil. It was such a weird idea. How?

And she wanted to say outright that no, she was  _not_ the Hotakainen the pretty (if a little short) Swede in town had eyes for, but she wasn’t sure it was her place. Actually, forget that – she was positive that it wasn’t, even before she managed to cross paths with him that evening. By then she'd heard that Ansa wasn't the only one who'd made assumptions about them, and she made herself just  _tell_  him about it.

“I wouldn’t mind, really,” Emil declared so confidently that she couldn’t imagine he’d do anything but mind at this point. “But Lalli – I think he wouldn’t want to deal with the – interest people might take in us being together.” He paused at the foot of the steps up to Lalli’s barracks room. “Do you want me to ask him?”

 _Ask him_ through me _, you mean? That sounds fun._

“No, no, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I’ll …” she couldn’t say “deal with it,” could she?

Emil, at the last second, stepped down to whisper in her ear. “How did you know we’re, um, together, anyway? I didn’t think Lalli was going to tell you.”

Tuuri could have smacked him. “He didn’t. I have  _eyes_  and  _ears._ And I could actually understand what both of you said about each other when you started talking about each other all day, every day that first spring. And how you’d disappear into -”

“Okay, okay, not so loud!” Emil, putting his hands up, tried to back away from her while still climbing the stairs. It mostly worked – at least, he didn’t miss a step and slide back down to the ground in a hilarious display – which was a little disappointing, really.

* * *

A selection of abridged correspondence follows, from the 8th through 10th months of year 94 (summer season):

 

_14.08.94_

_Mora_

Tuuri -

Trusting that a certain blond courier has brought you this letter undamaged, and likewise a small parcel, I’ll also assume you have opened the parcel and learned more about this mysterious item than I know myself. It was a salvage from one of the last hunts of the expedition; aside from the language, which I have to assume is Finnish, the name on the cover struck me as fitting, whatever your opinion on bicycles such as the one pictured. I meant to pass it on to you before, but Torbjörn insisted on attempting to find a buyer first.

Staying behind in Mora did in fact work to land me further employment, in an unexpectedly straightforward fashion: I am an assistant and public liaison to Siv’s research team. (I believe she told you more about it, before you left, than I heard myself.) It is of course interesting work in itself, but there’s no denying the joys of, in the pursuit of reclaiming the world for our kind, working for one of its great pessimists …

       … nonetheless, I assured her that if the matter made its way back to the Nordic Council, there would be little enough risk of their taking action within the three-month timeframe we are currently expecting. (It will be more like five months, of course, but the risk stays the same.)

Warm regards,

Mikkel

P.S. Thank the Cleanser for delivering this letter. Do not tell him I said anything about him, or about thanking him, please. I did so in person, quite slowly and clearly, when he departed. That should be sufficient

 

_19.08.94_

_Keuruu_

Dear Mikkel -

I love the book! Well, I haven’t read it yet, I just unwrapped it, but thank you! It’s the perfect souvenir. It probably isn’t about bicycles, though – the title means “living for my home country”, more or less. But I can’t wait to find out what it is about.

I’ve been promoted, technically, but it’s mostly just pushing different paper at this point. So please, please keep me updated on the research, which sounds so exciting, and not just by comparison…

… so I get why they’re being careful, but it isn’t like I didn’t spend most of the last four years in much more dangerous areas! Maybe they’ll ease up sometime. I’d love to go back this fall, though.

-Tuuri

P.S. Of course I thanked Emil! It’s been great to see him again, insofar as I do see him, which is mostly when Lalli’s out scouting after nightfall. (Which is getting really late this time of year, and that’s not exactly helping me with the people who assume he’s my boyfriend just because he talked to me first when he got here. Of course he talked to me! He barely speaks any Finnish, and who else here speaks Swedish? Humph.)

P.P.S. I hope this letter gets to you safely. I guess you’ll never know if it doesn’t?

 

_04.09.94_

_Mora_

Tuuri -

Apologies in advance because this will be a short letter. Finishing it and finding a trusted courier before we leave Mora just became a dubious proposition, if I were to give you the sort of details from our trials that you claimed such interest in reading. I will do my best to write a more thorough account on the way south, although I seem to remember that relaxing voyages on the Dalahästen are quite creatures of myth. Seems strange that these otherwise clear-eyed Swedes persist in the tale …

… but it seemed worthwhile to let you know that your courier appears trustworthy. Should I bother asking why you had doubts on that score?

Warm regards,

Mikkel

P.S. Shame can be a heavy weight, but you will in time overcome the stain on your reputation incurred by having been mistaken for someone willing to be romantically involved with Emil. Has he failed so completely to defend your honor against these accusations, or has he merely been hobbled by the language barrier so that he cannot do his duty and clear your name?

 

_05.09.94_

_Øresund Base_

Tuuri -

Our team is taking a ridiculous route to a dubious goal, but I’m apparently prohibited in my role as paramilitary liaison from specifying why exactly that is. On the bright side, we all had ample time to consider the last month’s results, dispute one another’s preferred interpretations only to declare a slight rephrasing the obvious conclusion and best lead for further investigation.

But we are in Øresund to meet up with a non-council, non-specific team of nonetheless presumably very important Icelanders …

… whether they’ll have anything like the background needed to understand it, especially as explained by the person from the Mora labs who himself has the shallowest understanding of the precedents, and who still doubts his benevolent boss’s insistence that he’s better off speaking without the perpetual disappointment she insists permeated her first twenty years in the field. (It is polite of her to pretend they aren’t simply using me because they wanted an impassioned Dane.)

Your impassioned Dane,

Mikkel

P.S. On the subject of Icelanders, you don’t happen to be writing our own team’s under-informed latecomer as well?

 

_15.09.94_

Dear Mikkel,

Your last two letters got here out of order, which was seriously confusing for a minute – but I’m glad I got the research-based one first, it sounds so exciting! I guess there’s a tiny bit of analogous work happening here – just some sample collection and going through old reports, and I mean very old reports – and it’s a little strange, to be honest. I never thought that the Rash wouldn’t be the same everywhere, and honestly I still don’t think there’s going to be any difference in how to handle it here versus anywhere else, but I guess it’s important to make sure …

… not even Torbjörn would mistake you for an  _impassioned_  Dane, but I’m sure Siv knew what she was doing. And you’re probably done with that by now (oops, I hope I didn’t miss you in Øresund!), but good luck anyway!

-Tuuri

P.S. That was mean even for you! It’s not that I’d be embarrassed to be dating Emil, it’s just that  _he’s not my boyfriend._ Which I finally seem to have gotten across to one of my friends, but I … sort of implied that he was someone  _else’s_  boyfriend (which is true!) and her immediate assumption was that he came here to be with  _Onni._ Whoops. So I may be disowned by my only brother soon, if she talks; and maybe I’ll consider it Emil’s fault if that happens.

Other P.S. I started the book! It’s good! Oh, not really related, but in response to  _your_  other P.S. (should we just move them back into the letters?) I got a letter from Reynir a while ago, and I sent one back but I tried to keep it short. I gather he’s going to be pretty tied up at the Academy for who knows how long, and he doesn’t need any distractions. But if you want to write him, just send it care of the Academy. (You probably already worked that out …) He probably misses the whole team, like I would if I were alone here. Even when I'm not I still miss you a lot. Sigrun hasn't been writing at _all_ from back in Norway. I'm glad you still are.

_  
28.09.94_

_R_ _ø_ _nne port_

Dear Tuuri,

I should have told you that Sigrun had contacted us by radio prior to our departure from Mora. Reportedly, Kitty has been an asset to the troll hunters already - _great-tastic_ , I believe, was the captain's description. Sigrun herself was in unsurprisingly high spirits.

I am now back on home soil, where it took your letter a bit longer to get to me although I’m  _sure_ Admiral Olsen made all haste to prioritize forwarding my post. (Did I ever explain him? Insofar as he can be explained.)

We have middling to low hopes of success in our push to get the Icelanders behind funding more modern research facilities on Bornholm …

… Siv commented (in an unusually joke-like way) that we’ve found ourselves on quite the impromptu promotional tour. We shall see what Taru says next week, assuming I survive my impending visit to the family farm.

No, it is not a coincidence that I am sending this out before anyone to whom I am related knows I have arrived.

Remember me fondly, if these are my last words to you,

Mikkel

P.S. Your brother will not disown you unless you persist in claiming you did not mean to set him up for public embarrassment in order to deflect attention from yourself. You showed a true younger sibling’s spirit in misleading your friend; do not hide your vicious brilliance, and he will remember again to fear your caprice.

 

_3.10.94_

_Keuruu (but Taru is in Pori now, apparently?)_

Mikkel,

You’re all coming here! Right? I mean, I didn’t get a definitive answer from Taru (but that might have been because I asked a waterway captain she knows, and they have kind of a past between them), but she really didn’t seem to be heading for Bornholm, or anywhere else. And okay, maybe your team is just coming to Pori, looking around and gathering samples, but … come on, is there any chance your “tour” includes us after all? You  _have_  to tell me! …

… There were some really, really weird patterns of activity in the records from sixteen years ago, which is right around the time I moved here. I don’t remember anything, but I guess I was still young and there was a lot going on at the time.

That’s about it  _unless you’re coming here soon!_

Love,

Tuuri

P.S. I’m not dignifying your accusations because they’re ridiculous. Meanwhile, it’s apparently half and half now between people who think Emil’s with me or Onni. Emil says there’s no way now that Lalli could handle being the target of so much gossip the way  _we_ can. I think he’s starting to like the attention way too much, way too amused that nobody’s guessing the right Hotakainen, and I swear he's going to end up with any and every rotting food I can scrounge up stuffed in and smeared on his shiniest boots the next chance I get. Yes, that’s childish. But being able to handle the gossip doesn’t mean I  _like_ doing it.It’s a hassle! And Emil probably thinks it’s flattering or something, the pompous twit. And Lalli probably has no idea about any of it,  _still_.

I should really, really scratch out those last few sentences, if not just tear them off and eat the paper. If you’re coming here, you might bring this letter. Please don’t blackmail me?

 

_7.10.94_

_Pori, almost_

Dear Tuuri,

We are in fact detained on a small boat, on a larger boat, trading waves with the desolate coast at Pori while negotiations occur (which I am happy to be kept out of, this time) …

… May your work continue to be more interesting than mine for the next few days. Too interesting to take time out to write me? I understand.

There will be a few familiar faces coming your way. Possibly. Allowing for one day lost to nonsense. You or someone in Keuruu can make a better estimate of their arrival time than I could, I imagine.

\- (inkspill, illegible)

Mikkel Madsen

 

P.S. If it’s any consolation, I will be the one person to believe you wholeheartedly when you insist that neither you nor Onni is romantically attached.. I also swear to keep your latest letter out of sight of everyone, so long as you do not cross me or sully any of my personal effects with moldy jellies, but I will keep it. How can I be assured of this safety without your previous embarrassing postscript as insurance?

 

 

* * *

 

Tuuri loved everything about late summer. The days got shorter, but in a soothing way, and even when it rained it seemed soft and patient - cooling off the summer’s frenzied energy. When it stopped, the sunlight was interrupted just enough by adorable, puffy clouds that set off the sky’s deepening blue. Evenings were the best time of day, when she was free to get up and  _walk_  (though not very far), be happy, stop thinking about work or anything too complicated for a while. She didn’t have to wrangle her family until after supper, usually.

One particular evening, she’d settled down at a table quite a while before sunset, just to relax with her expedition souvenir book. She’d finished it once, but there were definitely some things she wanted to read over again – names of places she’d never heard of, and words she didn’t recognize at all. One word seemed to be describing a bicycle, like the ones she’d seen in Denmark last year; it was a little eerie to realize there’d been a word for them in Finnish, once. Almost as eerie as reading a whole book about a war with a country that didn’t exist anymore, and how awful and brutal people had been to each other in the ancient world sometimes.

She’d been skipping around, not sure what if anything she was looking for, and getting sucked in to random parts she remembered liking, when a shadow fell over her – Ansa, leaning on the table, and letting her know that dinner was ready.

“Okay, just a minute. I’m almost done with this part.”

She’d meant that Ansa could go ahead without her, and they’d trade off saving each other seats, but when she looked back down the shadow just dropped longer. Ansa was peering at the book cover. “What  _is_  that?”

“It’s a bicycle. It’s something people use to get around, some places.”

“Huh, that makes sense. Oh, neat, it has your name on it!”

“Yeah, that’s the author’s surname though. It’s like that with -”

“Where’s that from? Your mission, right, the books you were collecting illegally -” Ansa stopped, dropped her voice, and when Tuuri finally gave up and looked at her friend’s face it was a little red. “I’ll go get some food.”

Tuuri sighed, closed the book, and stood up. “Never mind, I’m coming with you.”

They got in line together, and just a few seconds after Emil did; they traded waves, but he looked hunched over and sooty and tired, not quite in the mood to talk. When he got a bowl of soup, he sniffed it and recoiled just a little; on tasting it, he asked in outright if he could just pour his portion back into the pot. Fortunately, even the Finnish words he sprinkled through the complaint were incomprehensible to most of the crowd; unfortunately, he matched them with gestures that communicated his meaning pretty well. Especially when he offered to give the whole bowl back.

 _Don’t be a snob!_  Tuuri thought, and was actually about to shout to him when she saw Ansa sweep in behind him and swipe the bowl with a clumsy but effective “Tack!”

“Oh, uh, sure?” Emil got halfway to a smile before one of the servers cleared their throat meaningfully, and he ducked his head and slunk away to wherever else he thought he was going to get food.

Tuuri still felt like she should apologize as she settled down next to Ansa. “He can be kind of … rude, but -”

“So he was really saying the food was awful?”

“Well, not that it was awful, just that he didn’t want it himself -”

“He’s kind of a snob. No offense.” Ansa stopped, mid-spoonful, and apparently reconsidered. “I mean, no offense to Onni, I guess. That’s your story now, right?”

Tuuri rolled her eyes. Ansa had said, last week, that she was willing to give up on getting a clear answer out of Tuuri; Tuuri had said that she  _told_  her the truth all along, and it was Ansa’s fault if she wanted to think otherwise, but Tuuri was done having this conversation. And surprisingly, Ansa had actually backed off. Maybe she was finally taking pity on her, or maybe she was just getting tired of teasing Tuuri. And by whatever magic – come to think of it, maybe she should make sure  _Onni_  wasn’t getting asked any intrusive questions now – .when Ansa stopped bothering her, so had everyone else.

Or so Tuuri had thought. She tried to relax instead of scowling, either at her friend or at the soup. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Hey, where’s Lalli going? Doesn’t he want to eat?”

Tuuri shrugged, catching sight of her cousin as he glared suspiciously at the bowls several passersby held. “Maybe not today. He probably just woke up.” She stood to get a better look. Yeah, that was bed hair.

Ansa peered up at her. “You’re not worried?”

“Nah, maybe he’s just going to find -” and she almost said  _Emil_ , but then there  _was_  Emil, just behind a building, proffering some questionably-obtained bread with a massive, open smile on his face.

Tuuri sat down, but she must have been smiling too – they  _did_  both need to stay healthy, right? Ansa must have noticed  _her_ smile, and followed her sightline, because when Emil reached out to smooth Lalli’s hair, Tuuri heard her friend gasp.

“Waaait.  _Tuuri._ ”

Well, there it was. Ansa knew. At least fifteen other people who were probably looking that way knew, too, right? She hoped, at first, that it meant she could stop  _hiding_ it for them; of course, that lasted the tiniest part of a second before she remembered why she’d been willing to keep it secret in the first place.

“Oops.”

“You mean  _Lalli_  – don’t get me wrong, but  _nobody -_ ”

“Yes, Ansa! And nobody had better start bugging him about it or spreading the word that -”

An alarm interrupted her.

An alarm, at any time of the day or night, meant  _get inside and get armed._

Ansa, who was immune, stood up to shove Tuuri toward the nearest shelter. It was unnecessary, but still thoughtful – not that Tuuri would ever like those moments.  _Maybe next year,_ she thought, _or five years from now, the vaccine will be ready. Or the treatments …_ Well, that was much further off.

Also, someone had dropped their soup, and the squishing sound as she stepped in it killed her sweet reverie as she ducked into the command post.

Then it was getting armed, then standing around – which was, then, broken up by one of the day scouts who also worked as one of the base messengers calling her over, saying he had something for her. “It’s _another_  letter. You should start just coming by and asking if you have any post. You never used to get this many letters before, though, right?”

“Well, no. I didn’t really know anyone outside Keuruu before…”

“You should definitely start asking. Every day.” He nodded seriously at her, but didn’t deign to tell her where to _do_ that asking.

Tuuri watched him as he kept digging through the bag, blowing puffs of air to get his hair out of his face so he could – maybe – see inside. Finally he found it..

So at least she had a letter to read. Once she had a mask on her face and a weapon on her back, she used her remaining adrenaline to actually open it, then found a decent spot near a hanging lamp where she wouldn’t have to strain her eyes too hard.

 

_Pori, almost_

_Dear Tuuri,_

_We are in fact detained on a small boat ..._ _There will be a few familiar faces coming your way._

And then she was pretty sure they were locked down on a false alarm from the perimeter defense getting triggered.

_.. I also swear to keep your latest letter out of sight of everyone ..._

Oops. She should have, probably, passed this message along.

She started looking for someone from the security command to show, then hesitated as she registered the postscript's  _other_ contents and her urgent need to hide them. She considered tearing off that part of the letter - she wouldn't _eat_ it, but she could hide it somewhere safe -  but worried that it would obscure Mikkel's signature even more than the weird ink spot above it did. She settled for folding it over and keeping a hand on the paper the whole time she was showing it it, and she tried to explain the misunderstanding. Apologized profusely. Asked if maybe it wasn't too late to calm things down a _little_ _?_

It probably was, though - at least, it was fully dark outside by the time emergency protocol was suspended and she was cleared to leave.

"The group arriving by the waterway wasn’t expected, that's all," she overheard on her way out. "Apparently they sent a message ahead, but some ..."

Tuuri hurried past, winced, and considered going home for the night instead of finding the base's new arrivals. Getting some sleep sounded so much better than having to deal with the fact that she probably could have made everyone's night easier, but had missed her chance to, did.

 

It must have been midnight by the time the visitors came in to the meeting hall, cleaned up – in Siv’s case, still masked, until she set down enough of the cases she was carrying to actually take it off – and obviously tired to a person.

Siv, who had never really looked less tired in Tuuri’s experience, seemed almost smugly vindicated that they had screwed up their team’s peaceful, even hopeful, arrival so badly. “It can’t get worse from here,” she murmured to Taru.

Taru nearly choked on her drink. “You’re going to tempt fate  _now_?” she hissed back.

But then Taru was smiling. A lot. She told Tuuri they’d talk later, with a smile. She added congratulations for Tuuri’s promotion, still smiling, and patted her on the shoulder as she moved on to greet one of the old, grumpy mages from Keuruu’s strategic council.

And yet, Tuuri didn’t see Mikkel. Was the letter a prank, then, or at least that part of it? It was subtle, way too subtle, but then again he hadn’t said outright that he was coming -

Oh, there he was. Sitting in a side hallway, on the ground by the door to a storage closet, with his eyes shut and his mouth a neutral line.

Well, if misleading her in the letter wasn’t a prank, maybe … had he set off the emergency alert, somehow?  _He wouldn’t._ Tuuri smiled, ducked through the thinning and dozy crowd, and braced herself in the doorway.  _He wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t at least_ accuse  _him, though._

“Dear Mikkel,” she started. “We had an emergency lockdown in Keuruu tonight, because something set off the perimeter defense system.”

He smirked but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s pretty easy to set off, I guess – sometimes, even a scout seeing a completely normal bunny will panic and send up a flare. Still, it’s always a little stressful.”

Mikkel hummed indistinctly, but his eyelids shifted a little before he could stop them.

“Turns out it was a bunch of careless foreigners who didn’t schedule their arrival with us properly. That happens sometimes, I’m sure it wasn’t a secret test or a joke or anything that the letter their liaison sent alerting us wasn’t marked as urgent -”

“Get to the postscript.”

She didn’t understand at first. He must really be tired to mumble that badly – wait, no. He was just speaking Danish.

She still couldn’t figure out what to say, though.“What?”

He opened his eyes and waved her down to sit with him. She shuffled over, sank down to the very-shadowed floor, and scooted so they were shoulder-to-shoulder – if he was going to speak Danish, she’d need to listen closely.

He was opening his mouth as if to repeat himself, probably, but she cut him off. “Oh. The postscript?”

“It’s the longest part of the letter, lately.”

She sighed. “Stupid gossipy nonsense that’s still more interesting than even the most important stuff here. I’m sorry.” She’d followed his lead, sort of – speaking Swedish, maybe a little too slowly, and definitely a little too petulant. “I should have said, hello? Welcome to Keuruu.”

“It’s a very welcoming place. Lively. Everyone moves so fast.”

She shifted so she could talk into his ear – well, up toward it a little better – and was about to make sure that he really  _hadn’t_  screwed up the arrival intentionally, had he, because if so it wasn’t funny – when Taru found them and warned them that there was going to be an official meeting just after dawn tomorrow, so it was time to sleep.

Taru didn’t understand why Tuuri didn’t know where the team would be staying. There was an annex on one of the barracks now, wasn’t there? It had gone up a few years ago, so Taru hadn’t been back …

Tuuri winced, and pointed out that she hadn’t exactly been around then either.

“Sure, but where did Emil stay when he got here?”

“With Lalli,” she answered, and apparently that was a surprise to Taru, somehow. She fumbled on. "Doesn't Siv know where to go?"

"She does. She already took the others – damn, I should have asked her," Taru finished quietly, before switching to Icelandic to check, fruitlessly, with Mikkel on the topic.

The awkward but desperate solution was to take them both to stay with her and Onni.

 

The next thing that happened – late that night, into early morning - seemed a little fuzzy, even the next morning. Not bad, though.

Onni woke up when they got back, but he’d been on shift with the mages that evening; when Tuuri realized that she felt awful all over again about missing the letter, and coaxed him to just go back to bed, this was just Taru and a colleague staying over and she’d explain better when he’d slept.

That left Tuuri’s bed, for actual beds, and a drop-down shelf in the main room for whoever didn’t get the bed.

“And the floor for you?” Mikkel asked.

“I got a bunk the whole time we were in the tank,” Tuuri pointed out.

Taru interrupted to say that she’d take the bed, with thanks, if Mikkel was so determined to be polite, and Tuuri just directed her to the right door before returning to the main room.

So it was just the two of them, and Tuuri pulled some coats and heavy blankets out of storage to pad the floor because Mikkel, standing next to the bench, didn’t even have to say that it was not enough larger than the tank’s little trays to be an option for him, though he still said it. She agreed that it was just like a much smaller floor, wasn’t it? She didn't exactly miss her bunk in the tank, either. They ended up sprawled on opposite ends of the room, which still meant they were within arms' reach; they tried to share stories from the last few days, but lapsed into silence pretty quickly.

Then he’d said he missed the crew. Softly, so softly that she probably wouldn’t have understood it in Danish, and as it was it was hard to believe.

“Really?”

“Of course. Maybe having half of it here makes it difficult for you to believe?”

“Oh, no.” Tuuri paused, thinking that even in the same town she didn’t see Lalli  _or_  Emil as much as she’d had to before. They definitely didn’t talk as much, either. Still … “Writing doesn’t help? You probably know more about what’s going on here than Emil does, at this point.”

Silence.

“That’s not much of a compliment, is it?”

“Writing does help, but I’ve still missed you.”

She’d missed him too. They’d shared a mission – the whole crew had – and she missed that, but Mikkel in particular – she missed the talk and the proximity of working with him, even when it was so boring that she fell asleep with her face on the radio desk, or on a stack of typed pages. (Once, Mikkel had woken her up, squinted, and immediately started reading out what he swore were perfectly legible though backwards words, transferred from the paper to her forehead.) She reminded herself every day now that there  _had_  been boring days in the Silent World, and that if she got through those she could stay put now, too, and be bored. Again. Maybe that was why she especially missed having company to be bored _with_ , at least sometimes.

But she couldn’t say that, really. “You never put that in your letters.”

“You never know who might read a letter.”

He  _had_  written that a few times. Almost from the start.

“The postscript is so much _longer_ ,” she complained, not really caring if it made sense out of context of her head..

“I’m enjoying the postscript.” And there were shifting sounds, and she was about to bring up something else as fast as possible when he said, “Your last signature, incidentally.”

She hadn’t even noticed, but she remembered then.  _Love, Tuuri._ “Was there a problem?”

“I haven’t decided.” He reached out – he tapped the floor near her shoulder, first, but with the sound and the vague sense of each other's presence in the darkness they eventually got their hands into the same spot – but he didn't say anything, and she wondered what to say.

What she had to, maybe? "I didn't really think it through, but ..." thinking back, she remembered something that had been distracting her back then, that she'd been hesitant to bring up. And that might even the score, just a little, if she played it right. "Maaaybe ... I was a little confused by your book."

"You mean _your_ book?"

Right into the trap. "Fine, the book _you sent me_ . See, I didn't mention this in the letters afterward, but it's about ... a sort of _medic_ who's in love with a Finnish soldier." She tried to sound as innocent as possible. "I had to wonder then. Just a tiny bit."

"Hmm?" His voice was neutral, but his hand tugged away just a little, so – was he nervous?

"Well, where would you find a Finnish book in the Silent World? And why would you hide it so I couldn't see it, that whole way, if you were just going to give it to me later?"

"It wasn't the sort of book I wanted to encourage the others to be collecting." There was genuine trepidation in his voice, possibly from an image similar to the one Tuuri had: Sigrun and Emil returning from one of their runs with bags full of guides to ancient technology, or novels with embarrassing covers for that matter.

"So you hid it from me, too?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Hmm. And you didn't have Taru look it over for you or _anything_ , so you had no idea I might think -"

"Shh," he murmured. And moved closer to her, and she wriggled her own cocoon of coats and rough blankets toward him, too. She hadn't been talking _that_ loudly, but she could be even quieter this close.

"- might think that there was a message in it? Or even that you just slipped up?"

There was that _hum_ again, that wasn't remotely affirmative or negatory, but sort of like the sound of an engine starting up when everything was in good repair and ready to go.

"So you imagine that we both slipped up?"

Not really. Somehow, having to admit to herself that he _hadn't_ known much about the book, only that it had her name on it and that she might like to have it, was disappointing. She'd known, obviously, but ... he didn't even seem embarrassed about it. She sighed, then wished she hadn't.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "False lead. I really didn't think you _knew_ , or I would have mentioned it. In the letters."

He dropped her hand, but then put his in her hair – which she still kept short, partially out of habit but mostly because she wanted to believe she'd still need to put a mask on soooner than later, whether because she had a chance to go back to the Silent World or just to step outside the base walls.

"False leads can still take you -"

"- somewhere true," she finished. She'd said that – or something vaguely like it – to Sigrun, so long ago. It was when they'd made it to Odense, to the address on the syringes, and found a few black walls on a downslope that Emil said looked like a crater. It had looked like a complete bust, but then Lalli had found a delivery truck in a bit of concrete shelter that survived ... It had been a corny thing to say. "I don't think you're completely in love with me, or anything. I just – um?" He'd pulled his hand out of her hair, and she'd been getting used to it. She reached up for it, and missed.

"I wouldn't assume you were that attached yet, either." Their hands connected again. "But I'm attached, and if you want to try me out, I submit myself for testing."

“Though not  _now_  now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Tuuri meant sex, because they could feel each other’s voices through the floor or at least she could feel his, and if he was something like a boyfriend to her now, that was going to be part of the package, but not on their  _first night_  together just because they were in the same room?

Mikkel’s “ow” let her know that she’d apparently been taking that nervous moment out on the hand she was holding.

“Sorry. Um, that we should get to sleep now?” On impulse, she kissed the hand she’d squeezed; before she settled down, she got its owner’s permission for a goodnight kiss.

It was not smooth in any way.

She couldn’t help taking that as a good sign, though. It fit, for them.

 

The formal reception of the base's visitors – _intrepid researchers, who have crossed the known world in order to expand on the Silent World mission’s discoveries and work toward a new era of reclamation_ and so on _-_ drew everyone in Keuruu who was required to be there, and almost nobody else. It was polite. It was mostly done in Icelandic, though Tuuri was asked to translate the general sense of things every few minutes for the people in attendance who didn’t speak Icelandic. (There weren’t many total monoglots left in the military, but most of those were pretty old, and not coincidentally were high enough in the ranks to be  _important_. Tuuri’s nerves were completely shot by the end of the reception.)

Mikkel had been standing in the front, though oddly never speaking himself, but when the presentation was over and the crowd dispersed, Tuuri headed straight for him and whispered “I know where there are  _chairs._  Come with me.”

Because at least her office now had comfortable chairs.

She led him – well, she was trying to lead, and he was trying to not walk too much faster than she did – across the main plaza, and heard someone call out to her. Ansa, chatting with a few agricultural mechanics Tuuri knew (but not well), waved for her to come over, then trotted out to meet her halfway. “Who’s this? Oh, one of the researchers, right?” Ansa switched to Icelandic – slow and rusty, but cheerful: “How do you do? Welcome to Finland!”

“Thank you.”

Tuuri made the requisite introductions – grabbing Ansa’s arm and calling her  _my oldest friend in Keuruu_ because she couldn’t remember if she’d mentioned her by name. When she said that Mikkel was also one of her crewmates in the Silent World, Ansa grinned and enthused for a minute, but Mikkel nudged Tuuri’s arm.

She nudged him back.  _Let her finish!_

But Ansa wanted to introduce him to the other mechanics; and then Mikkel, quickly, in Danish, said his piece.

“Slower, please?” Tuuri answered in Swedish.

“Aren’t you hiding something?”

She thought for a minute, then grinned mischievously.

“This is Mikkel, a researcher from Mora but he’s from Denmark originally.”

_Hello, hello, handshakes all around._

“We were on the Silent World crew together. He’s also my boyfriend,” she added lightly, and looked up to Mikkel, who nodded and put an arm around her shoulder.

She turned back to see Ansa’s eyes narrow. “Very funny, Tuuri. I get it. I’m sorry I -”

Behind her, one of the mechanics rudely interrupted. “Wait,  _also_? I – Ansa, I thought you said Emil was with that reclusive scout guy?”

“Lalli Hotakainen,” another supplied.

“So who’s her  _other_  boyfriend?” the first one continued, apparently to Ansa.

Who was turning back and forth, looking ever more confused, but stopped to glare at Tuuri. “Is this _funny_ , Tuuri? I really -”

“Hey, thanks for talking, Ansa, but we really have to go now!”

As they left – Mikkel not-quite-but-almost tugging  _her_  along this time – she heard Ansa mutter “He’s _not_  Tuuri’s boyfriend, she’s just messing with us now.”

A few seconds later, and more loudly:

“Wait, the Swedish guy is cheating on Onni with Onni’s  _cousin?_  That’s awful! What a jerk.”

Tuuri smirked. She couldn’t help it.

 _We’ll just let them think what they want to, for a while._   

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The book Mikkel sent Tuuri is _Elämä isänmaalle_ by Antti Tuuri. [This cover.](http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1332928957l/10238275.jpg) I couldn't resist. Unfortunately, I also can't read it myself, and had only sparse descriptions to go by - if I got something horribly wrong there, all apologies!


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